I feel really crap about my son today. He's finished school, and his report, for the first time isn't good. He's having a tough time. His mum lives in a little hamlet with only 50 people, all of whom are either too up their own arses to play with my son (because I objected, rather effectively, to their planning application - but it was seven or eight years ago, and I moved out four ago, and he's only 11 and so's their son. It's not his argument, and no longer mine either) or, frankly, too old. There are no other kids.
I used to live in a village that's half an hour a way from his school and where he, and I, knew no one. One day a boy of similar age saw us kicking a ball around near the swings and asked if he and his brother could play with my son. I sat and watched. They had a great time. And I understood then just how lonely he is. Friendship is like anything, if you practice it you get better. Because of his parent's choices he has few friends, and finds them harder and harder to make. And now I've had to move again and we find ourselves in a strange town, 40 minutes from his school and, once again, knowing no one. All his similar age cousins live more than three hours away.
He's with me half the time, which makes doing anything regular, like a club really hard. That's why we do footy because it's half way between the ex and me, so we can share the training and match day trips.
And then last week I hear that he was bullied at that self same football club. He joined four years ago, ironically, in the hope that he would make some friends. Ha, some friends!
I used to think life was hard, but being a parent is harder. Some days it just tears your heart into tiny shreds and then stamps on the bleeding pieces. Who would willingly condemn the light of their life to loneliness and bullying?
I have got it so wrong, but he's collecting the bill. I feel so sad.
And I haven't even had a lacrimal glass of red, or anything, tonight.
